


Babbles

by Orangeships



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orangeships/pseuds/Orangeships
Summary: Sebastian, Ciel, and their adorable little monster.This got good feedback when I posted it on tumblr so I though why not post it here as well. It's a short little drabble I wrote in response to my friend asking "what if Sebastian and Ciel had a kid?"





	Babbles

My current master is a spoiled little thing. He weaves a path of chaos as he makes his way through the house, tracking dirt over the recently vacuumed carpets like some kind of heathen. I struggle to keep up with him, my arms cradling toys I hope will distract him long enough for me to scoop him up.

I shake one of the colorful trinkets at him, a little rubber building block that I know is nothing to him, but I do not have much in my arms that would interest the little monster. I hold out a bear, freshly cleaned and smelling of lavender. His father had insisted it be washed and cleaned, so I had obeyed. Now, I gingerly dangle the stuffed animal in front of him, hoping his muddy hands will reach for it.

He doesn’t give it one look. Those tiny, grubby fingers grab at curtains instead, pulling not hard enough to disrupt the fabrics but enough to make me drop my armful of offerings and dash forward. My own fingers brush against the wetness of his yellow raincoat. He slips away.

I do not remember tiny humans ever being so fast, nor do I understand how such little legs and hands can cause such a mess. He is so small and light that it should be easy for me to catch him, but he’s quick minded and slippery from the rain.

There is a corner just by his father’s office, a room where the master of the house currently dwells. I hide in the shadows there and let my eyes burn scarlet. The tiny monster trots forward on his unsteady legs, arms flailing wildly in the air. He searches for me with wide blue eyes.

My horns have stretched from where they were tucked, tips spiraling out as I crouch and let my darkness fill the quiet hallway. My fangs elongate, darting past my bottom lip and making my grin malicious.

He sees me now, still wide-eyed. The yellow raincoat hangs off his shoulders and his dirty boots had been kicked off at some point. His pudgy cheeks are a rosy color, so pinchable that it makes me want to coddle him.

I hold up a finger to my lips when he hesitantly steps forward. Water drips from his slate color hair onto the carpet in a steady rhythm so loud to my ears that I wonder if his father could hear.

My little master is only a foot away now. He reaches out and motions towards my horns. Nothing about my appearance scares him. He tugs at the appendages when I scoop him up into my arms, dirty hands digging into my hair.

“Daddy,” he coos, as if he hadn’t just spent the better half of an hour tormenting me. I sweep wet hair out his eyes and adjust the way he sits in my arms. He’s so small sometimes I’m afraid I might drop him, but I never do.  

He babbles to me, knowing full and well that the language of a one year old is the only one I can not understand. I stare at his grubby face and bare my fangs, which makes him laugh as if I had just performed the world’s best trick.

“How about a bath?” I will not admit that he had managed to sneak up on me, but he did. Ciel stands leaning against the propped open door of his office, amused at the scene in front of him. I let my features relax into my usual human composure.

“Would you like to help?” I ask him. Ciel comes to us, bags under his eyes from the amount of paperwork on his desk. He wiggles his finger at our son and the boy resumes his babbling.

“Of course,” my husband says, coos, in that way humans like to talk to their young. I mimic him, much to the pleasure of our giggling son.

Two sets of bright blue eyes are on me when I finish filling up the bathtub. I bend down to press a kiss on the nose of my littlest master, then Ciel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head his way. He’s grinning in that devilish way that makes my skin feel hot.

“I love you,” he says, and those are the words that make me want to kiss him as many times as he would let me. I love him too. I love both of them, my spoiled little masters.


End file.
